


Slices of Bread

by supernuklearan



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernuklearan/pseuds/supernuklearan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one says that life is easy, though some struggle more than others. But In the end, there will always be one thing to hold crumbling pieces together: friends. Human!AU VOCALOID fic. High School, Slice of Life. Rated M for later chapters, triggers tagged as needed, multi-ship but includes; KaiMiku, KaiMei, GakuLuka, LukaMei, possible RinLen twincest, and more will pop up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prototype

**A/N;** Brief background: This fanfiction is a Human!AU in a high school setting, genre is slice of life. It is also my first vocaloid fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it and any tips on what you would or would not like to see next as chapters go along would be great! Happy reading~ KC.

 

Rated M for themes in later chapters. Trigger warnings will be provided as needed.

Story is multi-ship; written so that you may pair up the characters to your heart's desires.

 

** Prototype. **

Prologue.

_“Vividly changing colors, I smiled as I left.”_

**__ **

**__ **

The sky has gone from crystal blue, glimmering with golden sunlight, to a thick mask of ominous gray and black. The wind is still a gentle breeze, but he thinks that he may even hear the faintest sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, threatening to consume this entire city; this whole island. He looks up and frowns with his heart sinking into his chest. It is not he who fears thunderstorms, he could not care less, but he cannot help but feel a lump rising in his throat from the thought of what could come should he not get her home quickly enough. 

            His hand brushes against the soft skin of her wrist. How warm it feels, just from a simple, split-second touch. He has considered locking fingers with hers for this entire walk from school, but hesitated. And he hesitates still, glancing down at her, turning away just before she can catch him.

            How beautiful.

            Is it now or never? His heart is racing. These thoughts have plagued—no, that isn't the right word—they've consumed him, flooded his entire mind, for months now, and still he shoves them away and sees them as absolutely nothing. But they are not just nothing! They are the exact opposite. These are feelings he harbors for someone of radiating beauty, of a gentle voice that entices anyone within a mile radius, of soft fingertips that send shivers down his spine when she playfully jabs him in the sides, or runs her hands through his hair.

            He suddenly seems to lack any doubt that she feels the same. But drifting away from his mind, what is it that _she_ feels? These thoughts have consumed her as well, but she buries them as deeply as she can. She hides from them. Why hide? What is there to fear?

            There are many things to fear. Like thunder. Her eyes lock upwards, but is it the blackening sky she gazes at, or is it him?

            One can never be quite sure.        

            And now, here they stand, in the middle of a sidewalk halfway between the high school and her home, too oblivious to the pedestrian traffic that swiftly brushes by them. When he focuses on her and only her, no other person nor thing in this world matters.

            He smiles.

            She raises an eyebrow, more fixed on the fact they have suddenly stopped. She wants to get home.

            “I love you,” he tells her. No hesitation this time.

            She starts crying.

            This is not what she wants.


	2. Brand New Days

****

****

** Brand New Days **

Chapter One.

_“And when the sun rises again, it'll be a brand new day.”_

The alarm goes off just fine. But she hits the snooze button one too many times, and on the third swipe of her ringing cellphone she unknowingly dismisses the alarm rather than pause it. And so she oversleeps by nearly thirty extra minutes.

            On the first day of school.

            Maybe thirty minutes isn't the end of the world, but those were thirty precious minutes that could have been spent brushing her teeth, taking a shower, getting a half decent breakfast... or, most importantly, shoving her mass of blue-green hair into ties that threaten to snap with only one loop. But she absolutely refuses to go to school without her signature twin-tails. It is not because she simply feels more confident sporting such wavy locks tied to the sides of her head, but more importantly, because her hair is so long it would threaten to drag right along the dusty floors of her school. Ah, hair this long proves to be a pain more often than not.

            But she will never cut it. Never.

            Regardless, it does not matter. Hair is quickly and messily thrown into pig tails, ribbon is loosely tied around the elastic bands. She pulls on white thigh-highs and grabs her shoes, but the uniform itself is absent! Where could it have gone? Pale white blouse, plaid skirt, it isn't so hard to miss. If only she would learn to lay it out the night before. It hadn't even been ironed. Ah, and there it is, at last, tossed into a ball in the corner of her closet. The navy bow on the front is wrinkled, but it will do. They won't yell at her for a subtly wrinkled shirt. Or at least, she assumes they won't. No stains? No stains. It'll do for the day.

            Quick sprint down the stairs, dash around the corner. Her hair flows gracefully behind her; a rumbling belly drags her towards the open loaf of bread on the counter. Had she forgotten to put it away last night? Ah, she is so organized.      

            Then again, Hatsune Miku is not really known for her organizational skills.

            Fingers grab the first slice of bread in the bag, not even any time to shove it in the toaster. Her teeth sink into the soft grain; she grabs the briefcase on the kitchen counter and sprints out of the door, trying not to inhale stale crust while gasping for breath.  She is out of shape, too. This is a lovely way to spend the first day of the new school year. What time is it? Maybe she has saved herself more time than she thinks; perhaps she will not be as late as originally thought. Where is her phone? She needs to check the time. Her hands pat around the pockets of her bag while she runs, but they reveal themselves to be empty.

            Her phone.

            It must still be sitting on her nightstand, or buried underneath her tousled mess of blankets and pillows. Well, here's hoping that it's no later than eight o' clock. There's still the chance that she can make it to school on time.

            …Naturally, she doesn’t.

            The bell has finished ringing and the clock strikes nine by the time her steps are clacking against the linoleum tiles of a high school with doors freshly opened for the new trimester. The halls have emptied; she can hear the boom of a teacher’s voice echoing down the hall as the first lecture of the first term begins.

            Well, there is only one thing she can do, now. A frown curls onto her face and she furrows her brow, mentally beating herself for sleeping in on the very first day while her feet begin to drag her towards the headmaster’s office. Depending on their mood, perhaps Miku would be let out early.

            Remi Asano is the headmaster of this high school that sits on the outskirts of Sapporo city life, preferred pronoun changing depending on their mood, and said mood fluctuating more than their own wardrobe. Most of the time, students will stick with “they.” Headmaster Asano-sama is generally a nice person, but does not hesitate to lay down the law when necessary. Miku only hopes that they will let her off of the hook today, that they will simply give her the schedule for the new year and let her be on her way.

            She slips through the door of the office, nervous eyes of blue and green hues peeking around. The receptionist tells her to have a seat down the hall, and Miku finds solace in seeing that she is not the only one lining up to see Asano-sama today. She takes the first seat on the left, bag sliding down to her feet while she gazes over at Asano-sama’s door. She wonders, will she address the headmaster as ‘she’ or ‘he’ today? Perhaps just ‘they?’ There was a time when she had assumed the headmaster’s blue eyeshadow and blackened lashes meant that they had chosen female for the day. It ended up throwing her into detention, but at least Miku does not any longer associate gender with cosmetics.

            She waits not so patiently in her seat, legs freely swinging back and forth and hands sitting underneath her thighs. If she had her phone on her, she’d at least be able to listen to music to pass the time…

            The door to this small office opens, and Miku glances to her right and sees a man slip through with hands in his pockets. His hair hangs halfway in his face, tousled lightly and shades of brilliant navy and blue. How can he see through those long bangs? He has a scarf lazily wrapped around the collared shirt of his uniform.

            “Already, Shion-san?” The receptionist says to him, playful smile across her lips. Miku doesn’t want to stare, so quickly she turns away. “You know you aren’t allowed to wear scarves with the uniform.”

            “I don’t know why not,” he replies. His voice is mellow, and seems almost too high for a male. But it really isn’t high at all. Miku’s hands have fallen asleep beneath the pressure of her legs, fingertips buzzing and painfully tingling. She bites her lips and pulls them away from her legs, grasping them into her palms and hoping the light squeezes will relieve the discomfort. The boy with the scarf that matches his messy blue locks takes a seat three empty chairs down from her, slouching over and arms folding across his chest. Her eyes dart over to him, and she notes that he looks as if he is about to fall asleep. Though, she can’t blame him. Miku would be asleep too, right now, had she been given the choice.

            He takes out his cellphone. The soft glow catches in the corner of her eyes; she listens to the soft tapping of his fingernails against a touch screen. The clock ticks and echoes in the crevices of this small hall lined with poorly cushioned chairs. Two students have already come and gone from Asano-sama’s office.

            “It’s stupid,” the boy says to her. Silence shatters. His words are clear and wet, ringing for a moment after he speaks. “That I can’t wear a simple scarf.”

            Miku is pulled out of her temporary trance, doubting for a second that it’s her he is talking to. She shrugs. “I suppose it’s a little strict,” she admits.

            “Why are you sitting here?” he asks, his eyes of deep blue briefly observing the threads of her uniform. “You don’t seem to be out of compliance.”

            “I was late.”

            “On the first day?”

            “You’re out of uniform on the first day.”

            His pressed lips break into an open smile before he presses the cotton of his scarf against his mouth, breath heating his body against the chill of a school that has the air conditioned turned on too early. “I guess we’re both off to a good start for the new term, then.”

            “It’s not really even cold enough for a scarf,” Miku says. “It’s April.”

            “I always wear a scarf.” He lets the garment fall from his mouth and settle against his collarbones. “They just don’t always call me out for it.”

            She opens her mouth to respond, but the door in front of her clicks open and Asano-sama, tight skirt and hair in a bun with glasses they probably don’t even need sitting on the bridge of their nose, pokes their head out of the office. Their finger gestures for Miku to step in and she grabs her bag, pulling down the edges of her pleated skirt before stepping inside.

            Admittedly, Miku is a little disappointed. She wanted the boy with blue hair and the nice voice to keep talking.

            Also, Remi Asano is a woman today. She lets Miku off with a warning, a tardy slip, and gives her the schedule needed to get her through the day. Too many other students had popped through her office from oversleeping for her to be bothered with writing out any other detention forms.

            The bell is ringing once more just as Miku steps out of the office, the sound of students scuttling to their next classes overwhelming the halls. She has missed first period entirely and is a little dissatisfied in herself, but doesn’t even have time to dwell before a familiar voice is screaming down the hall, calling out her name.

            “Is that who I think it is?!” the voice cries, feet dashing up behind her. “Neee, Miku-neeeeee~!”

            And before Miku can blink, a small little blonde with a white bow that mimics bunny ears is tackling her from behind, arms squeezing her tightly. Miku laughs.

            “Hello, Rin-chan.” She looks around, squinting down the hall. Rin’s other half is absent, it seems. “Where’s Len-chan?”

            “Right here!” Surely enough, Miku spins around and sees the gender-bend, eyes glimmering brightly with a quick wink and smile. “And I told you not to call me Chan!”

            Miku raises an eyebrow. “Then what am I supposed to call you?”

            “Len-san!”

            “You’re younger than me. I’m not calling you San.”

            He frowns, folding his arms before looking over at his sister, who merely giggles.

            “What’s your schedule, Miku-nee?” Rin asks.

            “Ah…” Miku glances briefly at the sheet in her hands, but pays more attention to the clock directly across from her that starts beaming into her soul. She can’t let herself be late for second period, too, and so she stuffs the schedule into her bag and turns away. “We can talk later, okay? I was already late this morning!”

            She dashes down the halls that are quickly emptying before Rin and Len can speak another word, with Math class being the only destination in sight. Kagamine Rin and Len, two terrible twins with a complex similar to that of the Hitachiin’s from Ouran Host Club—which, by the way, is Miku’s favorite series. On occasion, she’ll even poke fun at them for it. But other than that, those two blondes are Miku’s most reliable companions, even if they are younger than her, and still trying to grasp the concept of maturity.

            And throughout all of Math, and English, too, this girl with long green pigtails that collect in her own lap finds herself focusing more on the voice of that blue-haired boy who had been falling asleep in his seat than on the subjects themselves.

            The first four, mediocre classes pass and finally it is lunch, where Miku quickly learns she shares this period with Len and Rin. It is a blessing for her to be able to have someone to sit with, because so far, the only one Miku has recognized in all of her classes is Megpoid-san, the girl with unevenly cut locks of green that wears her pink goggles around her neck until class is dismissed and she can sport them on the top of her head. She claims that she is taking Chemistry and that is why she carries them on her, though Miku, and most other students, know that she already took Chem last year.

            Whatever floats her boat. Perhaps the boy from this morning can say he wears a scarf because he is taking one of the sewing classes?

            Miku waits eagerly with her bento while the Kagamines try to shovel their way through the lunch line, their stomachs growling and feet bouncing. Miku greets them with her lunch tucked in her arms and a smile when they finally arrive with their trays loaded with food, mouths watering.

            “Where would you like to sit, Len-chan?” Miku asks.

            His casual smile turns sour. “I told you, It’s Len- _san._ I deserve to be looked upon with respect!”

            “You have to _earn_ respect, Len-chan. Not just _ask_ people for it.”

            Again, Rin does not defend her brother, but laughs at Miku’s commentary. “Why not over there?” The subject is changed, her little finger pointing towards the corner where glass windows line the walls, and golden, afternoon sunlight shimmers across the empty tables. Len frowns, however, at the warmth in this area and the brightness of the sun, and slips on a pair of sunglasses with no hesitation.

            Miku and Rin both blink at him.

            “Len-chan…” Miku says.

            “Len- _san._ What?”

            “You…can’t wear sunglasses at lunch.”

            “It’s too bright over here. Why are we sitting by the window?”

            “It’s a good spot,” Rin comments. “It’s nice and cozy and warm.”

            “I’m sweating.” Len tugs on the collar of his uniform shirt, sunglasses sliding to the bridge of his nose.

            Miku shakes her head and glances over to Rin’s tray as she dabs her fork into a sweet cream puff. Her eyes widen, seeing the plastic tray covered in cream and strawberries and cakes. Where is the entrée?

            “Eh, Rin-chan…”

            “Hm?” She pops a strawberry into her mouth and glances over at Miku.

            “Did you get only sweets for lunch?”

            Rin nods. “Ah-hah.”

            “You…You can’t eat just sweets for lunch!”

            “Why not? They’re yummy.”

            “See,” Len butts in. “And you think _I’m_ weird for wearing sunglasses—when it’s _sunny_ —and she’s here eating nothing but cake for lunch.”

            “I can eat all the sweets I want!”

            “But I can’t wear my sunglasses? I sense a double standard.”

            “We’re _inside,_ idiot! You don’t wear sunglasses _inside_!”

            “We have a principal that changes their gender every day and I can’t wear my sunglasses inside the cafeteria? Ridiculous.”

            “Asano-sama is a nice lady!...Man!”

            And quietly, Miku eats her rice while Rin and Len bicker back and forth. Soon enough, an interruption comes, a shadow casting across the solid tabletop when an unrecognizable man looms over the three.

            “Good afternoon,” he says. His voice is deep and gentle, it bellows throughout this small corner. Perhaps the echo is only from how tall he is, with long purple hair that shines against the light of these glass windows, tied back into a tight ponytail. He is a bit intimidating, and Rin and Miku both gaze up in silence. “It appears I’ve been left without a seat this lunch period, as none of my friends are around. May I sit with you?”

            Miku blinks. “Sure. I don’t mind.” And she says this with the assumption that Rin and Len, also do not mind. It is too late for them to protest, because the stranger has already smiled and seated himself next to Miku.

            “Thank you, it’s greatly appreciated.” He tenderly sets a paper bag before him. “I am Kamui Gakupo. And you are, miss?”

            “Hatsune Miku. These are my friends, Kagamine Rin and Len.”

            “I know you!” Len shifts his glasses downwards, scanning this towering man of purple from head to toe. “You’re the dude with the eggplants.”

            And, coincidentally enough, Gakupo reveals an eggplant from his bagged lunch. Though, he raises his eyebrows at Len’s comment. “Ah, actually, it’s just Kamui-san, if you please.”

            “Okay, eggplant guy.”

            “Len-chan!” Miku narrows her eyes at him.

            “What, we can call him ‘San’ but not me?”

            “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to, dear brother,” Rin says.

            Miku shakes her head. “Kamui-san, might I ask, what year are you?”

            “Ah! I am year three, actually.” He takes a bite into the eggplant. Straight up. The crunch reverberates throughout the cafeteria, and Rin and Len stare at him with slightly parted lips.

            Brutal.

            Miku, however, brushes it off. “See? He is older than all of us.”

            “Eggplant-san it is,” the twins chime in unison.

Miku sighs.

And at the end of the day, Miku drags herself to her locker to at last stow away the books that had so quickly piled up in her frail arms. Two textbooks for History, three for English, one for Science, one for Math…her knees tremble with this weight, the books slide into the crevices of her arms before one of her paperbacks for English tumbles onto the ground, pages flipping open. She whines aloud, trying to draw out a plan for picking up the fallen text without letting the others slip out, as well.

But, it’s too late. Another falls, the one that binds this fragile mold of six different books, and then the rest come toppling down, smashing against her toe.

“Ah!” she hops on one foot with her hand rubbing the wounded extremity, blood rushing through her body with the frustration of losing all her brand new books. She is already off to a bad start by running late and missing first period. Should any of the bindings of these new books be dented, the principal would surely have her head.

            “Are you alright?”

            Miku spins around on her heel, other foot still hovering over the tiled ground. Though she’d only seen him for the first time just this morning, that particular voice had still settled inside of her and she thinks it may always stick with her, now—like glue.

            “Yeah,” she says. He’s still wearing his scarf, so obviously he either had been let off like she was, or had found another way around it. Or just didn’t care. Or all of the above. “Thank you.”

            “You don’t have a book bag or something?” He asks, immediately bending down to scoop the fallen texts into his arms.

            “I do, I just…I didn’t have any time to stop by my locker yet.”

            “Where’s your locker?”

            She turns around, fingers working with the handle. “Right in front of you.”

 The metal door pops open, and she dips her arms inside to pull the empty back off of its hook. He drops the books into her bag and smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” she smirks. “I see you’re still wearing your scarf.”

“I kept it off during school. What did Asano-sama say to you?”

“She let me off with a warning.”

“Nice. I should probably introduce myself, since I helped you with your books and all. I’m Shion Kaito.”

“Hatsune Miku.”

He smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hatsune-san.”

And Miku smiles, too, simply at the sound of his voice. She’s focusing more on the way his words tickles her ears than at the scarf wrapped around his neck or the twinkling eyes of sapphire, the dark locks that hang in his eyes or his half-tucked shirt.

It’s unusual. It’s really just his voice that draws her in.

“Kai-kun, are you coming?” A voice calls from the end of the hall, one that Miku does not recognize. She leans over and glances behind him, seeing two women that stand side-by-side and wait, impatiently, for him. The woman with short locks of chocolate is one Miku cannot recognize, and she stands with her arms folded, the source of the call. But by her side, there is a woman who is tall and voluptuous, flowing locks of bubblegum pink that sparkle like a crystal ocean when the sun angles just right from the glass doors behind her.

Miku can recognize that woman anywhere.

“Megurine Luka-sama…” Her voice drops to a shaking whisper.

“Hah?” Kaito glances back down at Miku, his fingernails gripping the locks of his hair. “Oh, yeah. You know her?”

Miku’s optics of teal remain fixed on this woman of radiating beauty who stands so confidently by the unknown brunette, but she shakes her head. “No. No, I don’t.”

Lies.

Well, partially. After all, it is not _Luka_ that she knows, is it?

“Oh.” He shrugs, thinking that ‘Sama’ is a little over the top for a schoolmate. But he cannot rightfully judge a girl with a quiet voice whom he’s only just met, so he lets it be. “Okay, well, I have to go. I’ll see you around, okay, Hatsune-san?”

“Okay.” But she doesn’t even glance at him when he leaves. The only one she is focused on is Luka, whose hair flows so gracefully and endlessly behind her with every step she takes, every clack of her golden boots echoing throughout a now empty school.

She’s so _beautiful._

And so the first day of the new term comes to an end, the first day of Miku’s second year as a high school student. She has been told that year two is meant to be the most… _unusual_ year. The most difficult, but also, the most memorable.

She eagerly awaits what these next terms hold in store for her.


End file.
